


Sanguinís Que Pretiósi

by Lady_Lavender



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Author is an unabashed NERD for Eastern European vampire folklore and uses a lot of that, Don't copy to another site, Emotional Manipulation, Father/Son Incest, M/M, Nero is a thrall, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Partial Mind Control, Setting borrows heavily from Vampire Hunter D, Somnophilia, Vergil/Nero is the main relationship here, codependent relationship, the Vergil/Dante is more hinted at than anything
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2020-03-27 23:05:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19008475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Lavender/pseuds/Lady_Lavender
Summary: Dhampir: A child born of a vampire father and a human mother. Those who do not succumb to their vampiric nature tend to work as some of the best vampire hunters in existenceSeveral hundred years ago, twin dhampirs were born to a human woman. One chose to walk the path of humanity, while another embraced his vampiric heritage. In the modern day, another dhampir hunts down a legendary vampire. Confronted with the call of his own father's blood and the truth of what happened to one of the world's greatest vampire hunters, he's faced with a choice. Unfortunately for him, Vergil is determined not to let another member of his family turn away from him again.





	1. (Vergil)

**Author's Note:**

> This is uh.... super self-indulgent and dark, I make no apologies for any of it. Comment moderation is on just in case.

_It was the first time he'd seen Vergil in nearly half a century, and there he was in their mother's old garden, watching the overgrown rose bushes burn away. His twin had barely even aged at all since the last time Dante had seen him, staring at the flames with more poise and unnatural stillness than any child —dhampir or not — should have possessed._

_"Been a long time, Vergil," he shouted over the roar of the flames. Something in his gut twisted at that, at seeing one of the last remnants of their human past turn to ashes in front of him. The ghost in front of him wasn't even partly human, not anymore, and there likely wasn't any God that existed that would save either of them._

_That voice, smooth as silk, shouldn't have come from a child's mouth, was much too deep and hypnotic. "So it has, brother mine." Unnaturally blue eyes turned to face his own, and the call of blood was so strong, they were so close to each other that his fangs ached. "Won't you join me, Dante?"_

_"Why don't I send you to Hell first? Then I'll think about joining you there."_

_A small smile, one that seemed almost sad. An impossibility on such a creature as a vampire — Dante wasn't going to fall for it. ~~Not this time.~~_

_"Oh, my dearest brother. When will you learn? I already **am**  in Hell. You descended first, and it's only a matter of time before I join you."_

* * *

 

Vergil groaned as the sun set, wiping away the taste of blood in his mouth. This always happened when he chose to share his twin's coffin, the call of blood overpowering his dignity — not that anyone ever cared about such a thing all the way out here. No, the only person he might have worried about knowing would never wake up to say anything about it.

He sat up from the large coffin, examining where he'd bitten Dante this time. It had been quite by accident, really, as it always was. But there was  _warmth_  and  _life_  and  _power_  so close to him while he slumbered during the daylight hours, and his body couldn't help but give in to the temptation. This time seemed to be a small bite, missing any major blood vessels that pulsed beneath his brother's skin, but it was slow to heal.

Not even twenty years now, and Vergil was still trying to face the reality of the situation: he would never have his twin brother back, not really. Dante had sworn, all those centuries ago, that he wouldn't rest until he'd killed the vampire Vergil had chosen to become. And as a dhampir, Dante'd had the longevity and strength to last this long. At least, until…

Sighing, Vergil cleaned the remainder of the blood he'd drawn with his tongue, not wanting to waste any of the precious substance. Between the rate of Dante's healing and the way his dreams bled into Vergil's own, he guessed it was time to go find a new victim or two in order to keep his dearest brother alive.

He'd never been particularly inclined to fratricide — that was Dante's motivation, not his. Besides, the call of the blood they shared would never let Vergil kill his brother. So the twin that had chosen humanity slumbered still, not waking even once in the past couple of decades, and the dutiful older brother kept him alive.

If there was a god that would answer his prayers for Dante to wake, it would likely find it a cruel amusement for such an event to happen during the day, while Vergil himself slept. Even crueler, perhaps, to arrange it for a day when Vergil shared a coffin with his brother.

The vampire would die in his sleep, at his dhampir brother's hands. It would be only fitting.

For now, though, Vergil had some business to attend to in the town of Fortuna.


	2. (Nero)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nero is an optimist when he really shouldn't be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I'm not dead I swear!_
> 
>  
> 
> I've had this chapter right around half-written for... a while now... and I actually wanted to work on it when my computer bricked and even though it was still under warranty and got fixed, that killed all motivation to do much of anything for the past several weeks.
> 
> But I had a sudden burst of need to write, so it's here now! I'd have loved to make it longer but I was really anxious to give you guys something for waiting so long.

"Kyrie, really. I'll be just fine," Nero tried to wave off his girlfriend's concern. Just because he'd gotten into an over-enthusiastic argument with Mrs. Greene at the bakery didn't mean he was in any danger from the rest of the town. Yeah, he'd stepped out of line a little, he was bound to get funny looks for a few days at minimum. That tended to happen when he slammed a fist down and broke the entire front counter because he forgot to regulate his own strength.

Kyrie smiled, not quite meeting his eyes as she put a protective amulet she'd created around his neck. Unlike most of the other folks in Fortuna, though, Nero knew she wasn't afraid of him. Sure, he forgot sometimes that humans were incredibly fragile, and as a dhampir it was so easy to accidentally break them, but he never  _meant_  for it to happen. He'd never really felt a desire to hurt or kill any normal humans before.

If that changed, Nero had made a promise to himself and to Kyrie that as a hunter, he would make sure that one way or another there would be one less monster in the world. They'd die at his hands… even if it meant turning his blade on himself should he become a danger, too.

With Kyrie's little protective amulet safely wrapped around his neck, she took a moment to smooth out his jacket and just lean against him. Nero sighed, wishing he knew how to reassure her that he'd be okay. It didn't matter that no one else in Fortuna really trusted him — he didn't  _need_  them. All he needed was already in his arms.

"Can't you at least try to make friends, Nero? I worry about you, it's not healthy to not have anyone else to go to."

This conversation again. Nero couldn't even really call it an argument at this point, because he was never angry at Kyrie, never raised his voice, and rarely even complained about it. But it still always went the same way. "No one's ever trusted me since I was a kid, Kyrie. Kind of obvious what I am, and this close to the wastelands, about the only thing I can really do to prove my worth to the town is keep it safe."

Fortunately, the small smile that he got when Kyrie looked up at him was different from how this usually went. "This vampire you're going after is pretty old, right? That means the bounty you get from killing it might be enough to let us move. If we go to Red Grave, maybe you'll find other dhampirs you can talk to. Or maybe just more humans that don't care about what you were born as and look at the kind heart you have, instead."

Admittedly, it was kind of a nice thought. Aside from Kyrie, Nero didn't have anyone who trusted him. For that matter, no one had even been all that friendly with him since Credo died on a hunt. In a city as big as Red Grave, he was bound to find  _someone_  he could hang out with. Even if they never fully accepted him there, maybe just… the  _idea_  of non-humans living fairly peacefully among humans being an everyday fact of life might help him be less completely dependent on just one person.

"Tell you what. When we move to Red Grave, I'll start trying to branch out more. Just let me take care of this monster and claim the bounty, and we'll see if maybe we can swing moving, okay?"

That seemed to do something to ease the lines of worry from Kyrie's face, and she stood on her tiptoes to kiss the corner of Nero's mouth. "Thank you, Nero. I know Fortuna hasn't been too kind to you, but it does give me hope that you still want to try and get along with more people, even if it's not  _here_."

Who knows how things might have turned out if Nero had been born in a larger city, or been able to swing moving to one at a much younger age. Maybe the thought of dealing with humans in general would be a lot less grating to his nerves. No use dwelling on what could have been, though—Nero needed to focus on the here and now of his reality.

"It's still pretty early, and the old building this vampire lives in is a couple hours away. I should get there around noon, when he's at his weakest. I'll try to make it back before sunset, and then we can work out that bounty."

Nero strapped a double-barreled revolver to his leg and swung his sword over his back. Red Queen and Blue Rose were customized just for him—part of a payment on a hunt he'd done years ago. Red Queen he understood the name for... but Blue Rose? There were some wild roses at the cemetery gates, awful things that Nero couldn't stand the smell of. He'd never seen or heard of a  _blue_  rose, though. Then again, roses in general were pretty hard to find, maybe he just wasn't looking hard enough.

Kyrie handed him an ammunition pouch full of silver bullets. They were pricey, and Nero always had to handle his ammo with gloves when reloading, but they made sure any wounds he made with his gun didn't get healed up at supernatural speeds. "Thanks, Kyrie. Don't wait up for me too long if I don't make it back before nightfall. I'll be fine, you know me."

One last grin that showed off small, sharp fangs before Nero waved goodbye and headed off to the wastelands on foot. The morning sky was just starting to brighten up, and even though the sun didn't actually do anything to hurt him aside from very human-looking sunburns, that didn't mean Nero actually liked it. He always felt weaker during the day, and the light irritated his unnaturally blue eyes. So he pulled a hood over his head, covering up the pale white hair that marked him as a dhampir, and hummed to himself as he walked.

He didn't have the heart to tell Kyrie, but Nero was really only agreeing to try to talk to other people to keep her from worrying too much. Maybe if he found someone he got along with once they moved, he'd change his mind about just doing it for her sake, but he'd still honestly be perfectly happy with just her in his life. And Credo, but... well. He could mourn the dead, but that didn't bring them back.

Given his job, he'd be a lot  _more_  worried if Credo came back somehow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pssst, I'm running the [VerNero Week twitter](https://twitter.com/verneroweek) account! Check it out and enjoy the goodness there!


	3. (Vergil)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vergil meets Nero, and comes to a decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhhh sorry for not updating pretty much anything lately, I've been in a major slump and it's been incredibly difficult to get any writing done
> 
> I'm trying to work on (Not) Alone at the Top, but that might be slower going than this one for a bit.

There was an intruder in his domain.

From the outside, it looked like an old castle, a relic from centuries upon centuries ago. Crumbling and falling to ruin, just another place for a weak vampire to hole up and cling to the remnants of a past where they had once ruled supreme.

Vergil was no weakling vampire, and was old enough to remember the early days, before his kind had been too well-known. Many of their weaknesses had been systematically erased when they'd gained power, or collective human memory of such things destroyed. Vergil himself had taken part in some of those campaigns, when he'd been younger.

This intruder would find that the crumbling stone ruins out in the wastelands were merely an illusion, once he walked inside. More, he would find that the hallways had been spelled, leading him in circles and getting him more and more lost. Even going between levels, there were no stairs — only a seamless, flat hallway with no indication that he had gone to an upper floor or a basement, save for if he noticed a lack of windows letting light stream in from outside.

Being as old and powerful as he was, Vergil was weakened when the sun was high in the sky, but he was not harmed by the light. That had been different, when he was younger, and was still different from how many vampires simply could not be roused during the daylight hours regardless of the actual amount of light.

Rising out of his own coffin, Vergil used his powers to shift into the form of a large, black panther and walk through the shadows to personally keep an eye on this would-be hunter. He'd been wanting for a decent meal the past couple of days, but it was always nice when one came to him instead of Vergil having to leave the seclusion and comfort of his home.

The spells of his house took him straight to the intruder. A young man with a gleaming sword with red accents strapped to his back, a strange double-barreled revolver in hand, and… white hair.

Ah, a dhampir that had decided to hunt his vampiric kin. Vergil remembered when deep suspicion followed him based on his hair color, as well. But this was just a boy, probably barely into his twenties, young and foolish. Vergil stalked closer, the black fur of his current feline form keeping him blended into the shadows.

But there was something different about this boy. Something that made Vergil's fangs ache, the way they only ever did near—

_Ah._

So this was  _his_  dhampir offspring. Plans for making a meal of the hunter who thought he could kill Vergil in his sleep were set to the wayside. Instead, why not try to convince what remained of his family to join him? That had been a fool's errand with Dante, ever stubborn and determined to see them both dead, but this boy?

But perhaps… he shouldn't take any chances with this boy. No, better to enthrall his son and twist his mind. Manipulation and coercion would be the name of the game here, rather than attempt after attempt of failed persuasion for family to see the situation and the world as Vergil did.

He would not fail this time. Not like he had with Dante. ~~He would not lose another family member. No matter what it took, Vergil would bring his newly-discovered son over to his side.~~

Large black paws padded silently through the shadows before he sat in front of the boy, staring him down.  _ **"Did you plan for running around in circles until sunset, or did you really think me so foolish as to have no defenses against hunters during the day? Even assuming that I could not be awake right now, you had to have come here knowing that you were dealing with an older vampire. Did you really expect so little?"**_

That gun of his shot three rounds in quick succession, none of which managed to hit Vergil directly. However, the silver burned at the shadows it had pierced, and the bullets exploded enough to make him wince from the shrapnel. Curious weapon, that. Dangerous, too. Had the boy's aim been a little better, his movements just a bit faster, then Vergil could have been seriously wounded right now.

**_"Is that how you say hello to your parents, child?"_ **

A low, inhuman growl rumbled through the boy's chest as he bared his fangs for Vergil to see. Blatant threat displays did little to get a rise from the vampire anymore, though. Not from someone so young, inexperienced, and clearly below him in power.

But this boy didn't  _have_  to be below him in power. This was  _Vergil's_  son, he had the potential to be incredibly strong, if only he could be guided in the right direction. The best way to make him bend to his father's will would be to enthrall him.

"What would you know about having parents, you bastard?"

Vergil chuckled at the would-be insult.  ** _"I was raised by a human woman, for starters. But I suppose you're right… My mother and my vampire father were never married, and I and my twin were born out of wedlock. Technically speaking, we are bastards."_**

The feline form that he wore slipped away, and Vergil stepped forward with one hand outstretched as an invitation. "And technically speaking, so are you. After all, any human woman I've slept with in the past several centuries was never worth my time to marry."

Unnaturally blue eyes, mirrors of Vergil's own, flashed red in anger as the boy took a couple steps back. The revolver needed to be reloaded, and his son's hands were, to his vampiric senses, obviously shaking too much to fix that. Instead, that gun was shoved into the holster on his thigh and the sword strapped to his back swung around and…

Revved?

How  _curious_. A weapon with a human-made engine on it, spreading flames… Was the fuel for it some kind of alchemy, designed to burn especially hot or simply damage vampiric flesh more effectively? Or was it mere engine fuel, easily available in any decently sized human settlement?

Ah, but Vergil was getting distracted by a novelty right now. He could learn later. "Really, child. Is this any way to greet your own family?"

"I don't  _have_  a family, you undead piece of shit," Vergil's son spat out, fangs gleaming in the faint daylight that streamed in from a window. Second floor, if he was reading the navigation spells correctly.

He sighed, shaking his head and easily dodging the swing of that sword with supernatural speed that exceeded even a dhampir's. "Don't be foolish, boy. Can't you feel how your fangs  _ache_  when you're near me? Blood calls to blood, and that pull is always strongest among those with vampiric powers. You are my son, and I would rather not dispose of you if given a choice."

Vergil ducked to avoid another swing of that sword, although he felt the blast of heat from the engine and the distinctive scent of singed hair that made him reflexively pat the top of his head to make sure it was put out. Even mundane fire was dangerous to a vampire, although mostly he was upset that now his hair had been messed up.

"Too bad for you, then, isn't it?" The young hunter spat out, fangs bared and long claws gripping the sword tight. He was such a cocky boy, so sure of himself… or else full of false bravado.

"Don't make me repeat myself, child."

There was a flash of something inhuman — a vampiric magic that Vergil had only rarely heard of and never actually  _seen_  before now — as his son reached out with his right arm and clawed away at the shadows surrounding Vergil himself.

That was dangerous, but extremely powerful. Exceptionally rare in full vampires, and unheard of in dhampirs. This boy could be a problem… at least while the sun was still high in the sky. Once night fell, and the full breadth of Vergil's powers returned to him, his child would belong utterly and only to  _him_.


	4. 4. (Nero)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vergil makes a promise to Nero

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I uh. wrote this in about an hour and a half. I'm flinging it here because maybe posting it will motivate me to keep writing tomorrow after I wake up

That goddamn sonuvabitch  _asshole undead freak_  was messing with Nero. The light from the windows he only occasionally saw was getting weaker, and at a couple of different points where he didn't even find any stairs, he looked out the window to see he was on a different floor from where he'd started, the ground far below him.

Honestly, the whole damn place reeked of magic that made his fangs itch. Contrary to what the bastard vampire — who was stalking and following him around like he was more amused than anything else — might have tried to insist, Nero's fangs definitely weren't aching because the monster in this castle was his father.

He didn't have a father. He didn't have a family. All he'd had growing up were Credo and Kyrie, and now that Credo was gone, it fell on Nero to protect Kyrie. He didn't need anyone else, let alone some vampiric murderer that thought he was better than everyone else.

So what if Fortuna didn't care for Nero? Wouldn't matter. Once he managed to get a good shot at this bastard, he and Kyrie were moving away to Red Grave. Either that, or Nero would die trying to bag this bitch and Kyrie wouldn't have to deal with living with the local outcast anymore. She deserved better than that, but like hell Nero was going to protest her wanting to give him a chance.

At some point, the light faded away entirely, and so did the windows. He'd gotten turned around badly, the magic in this stinking castle turning him in circles. But then he found himself at the end of a hallway, with a set of doors with engravings of roses in them.

Nero snorted, and figured something important was down here… And more, his whole mouth was aching, desperate for blood that he refused to allow himself. He ate raw meat from time to time, or maybe if he was especially desperate and weakened, drank from a live rat, or coyote, or a stray cat or dog roaming the streets. Never a person.

He ignored that, because once he gave into the temptation to bite this vampire, Nero knew he would be a danger to everyone and he might as well load up Blue Rose and line up her muzzle over his heart right now.

But he  _did_  push open the doors, wondering what could possibly be beyond them. If he couldn't kill the vampire, getting rid of his coffin was a good step. No coffin, no place for the vampire to recharge while he slept.

Sure enough, there was a coffin inside, but the name engraved on the lid with more roses made Nero stop cold.

**_Dante_ **

What. Dante, the legendary vampire hunter? Nero took out Blue Rose, taking a brief moment to look around and make sure the damned vampire that was fucking with him wasn't still in view before reloading the revolver. Just in case.

He stepped forward, lifting the coffin lid. Inside was a man with silver hair like his own, and an uncanny resemblance. But he was fast asleep, like a vampire would normally be during the day.

A shiver ran down his spine as his inhuman senses told him that the sun had set. If this was a vampire, then he'd be waking up any second now. Dante or not, Nero couldn't take the chance of letting him live his unnatural, undead life.

He stepped back, cocking the hammer on Blue Rose, and aimed for that head of silver hair.

Instead of firing, though, Nero found himself unable to move. He could only breathe, blink, and move his eyes through every bit of his available field of view.

Fuck, he'd let himself stay in a powerful vampire's lair after sunset. Even if the bastard that was toying with him wasn't in view, that meant jack and shit if Nero was still here.

A cool hand settled on the back of his neck, and that now-familiar laugh was right next to his ear. Nero squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to give this vampire the opportunity to look him in the eyes and hypnotize him. That was how they enthralled you, right?

"Foolish boy. And you doubt our blood connection? Not just anyone would be allowed here, to my brother's resting place."

...  _Brother?_   What the actual fuck?

"For centuries, I tried to get Dante to join me. He was always stubborn, and refused up until the end. Now, he's slept for the past few decades. He may never wake up. And  _you_  are the only family I have left, boy. I do not intend to allow you to slip from my grasp, too."

Against his will, Nero felt his arms drop to his sides and return Blue Rose to her holster. The vampiric presence moved to his front, and Nero absolutely, resolutely, did his damnedest to keep his eyes closed. Fortunately, they seemed to stay that way.

And then he felt chilled lips against his own. A clawed finger pried his jaw open, and the rich, thick taste of blood overwhelmed his senses. There was only a mouthful, barely enough to sate the ache in his fangs as Nero found himself lurching into the source, his tongue seeking every last drop from within the vampire's mouth.

But then he was forced away, and a new presence in his mind seemed to laugh.  _"Oh, Nero... My dear son."_

Something about that voice soothed his senses and made him relax. He should be fighting, said some part of him, but the voice and presence shushed it and said that everything would be alright.

"I won't lose you. You will  _live_ , Nero. Do you understand?" That voice — his  _father's_  voice, that's what it was — was giving him a promise: Nero would live, no matter the cost, and Father would be there for him.

He still wanted more blood, though, so Nero leaned in to try and lick up more from his Father's lips. But two fingers against  _his_  lips gently pushed him away. "Do you understand, Nero? Answer me, in your mind or out loud, it doesn't matter which."

Yeah. Yeah, Nero understood. He didn't have to be alone. He had another person besides Kyrie to rely on now. That was good. That was what she wanted, wasn't it? To not rely only on her?

His Father's voice laughed again, both inside Nero's head and physically in front of him. "Very good, son. Your girlfriend will be worried about you, staying here until after sunset. Go to her. I will be with you, seeing through your eyes and hearing you in your mind now. Best not to let Kyrie fear you've died, yes?"

Yeah... yeah, Father was right. Kyrie  _would_  be worried. Maybe no one else in Fortuna would care all that much, but she would, and Nero needed to at least make it back for her. He was safe, and his Father would  _keep_  him safe. Father had promised, after all.

Nero would live. He  _had_  to live, for Father, even if everything else made Nero miserable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> K I S S
> 
> :D


	5. (Vergil)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nero is stronger than expected, and that doesn't make Vergil anxious at _all_ , nope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay on this, I wound up re-writing this chapter's opening several times to try and get it feeling less rushed. It still feels a bit rushed but I think in a way that works.

His son had an interesting view of the world. Vergil left the castle about the same time he sent Nero back to Fortuna, retrieving enough blood to sustain himself for a few weeks without raising further suspicions before returning to delve deep into the boy's mind.

Nero had grown up in a smaller town that was unused to seeing dhampirs even pass through, let alone be born. He hadn't known his mother, had been raised as an orphan — Vergil had to assume that either she had died in childbirth. So Nero faced stigma for what he'd been born as, through his entire life.

Only two had ever seen beyond that to try and reach for the person Nero wanted to be. The brother and sister, Credo and Kyrie. Credo had been a monster hunter, and a mentor for Nero that taught him how to use the tools of his trade. Nero, with his exceptional strength and speed, had gone on to hunt baser vampires.

Credo had died the previous summer, after a base vampire attacked Fortuna while Nero was on another job. The vampire died rather nicely, but Credo's death… well. Nero was probably in the right to have put his friend and mentor down with such extreme prejudice. The weaker, younger vampires that littered the wastelands these days never made new vampires that were fully cognizant of themselves on awakening.

But Kyrie… Oh, now she was a wonder. Vergil could  _use_  her to more neatly entrap his son. Nero was enamored with this young woman, deeply devoted to her to the point of her kindness being the only thing his life now revolved around.

Take her out of the picture, and Nero would belong to Vergil. But it would have to be done carefully… Perhaps he could make her the first human life Nero drank of, and encourage the boy to take her into himself — to keep Kyrie with Nero for all time, of course.

His son wouldn't know that such a precious ability existed, having only hunted younger vampires that saw blood as little more than a drug they needed to survive. Vergil, on the other hand, recalled an old religious phrase in Latin, speaking of blood as a precious thing. He'd never been much for religion, but the experience of drinking blood as a vampire was far different than he'd ever known as a dhampir. The closest thing to a holy moment that he could think of was when he drained a life and took it into himself.

His brother had never understood that, but perhaps with the right manipulation, his  _son_  might.

Most thralls required another dose of vampiric blood roughly once a week. It was why most were made to stick close by, though Vergil wanted to see how long it would be before his son broke. Seven days passed, and though the world he saw through Nero's eyes got slightly hazy, the boy did not seem in any hurry to return.

One week turned to two, and at night Vergil could sense his son consuming blood. Animal blood, from stray cats and dogs. It would not be enough — a dhampir thrall that refused to drink a vampire's blood would eventually move up to taking a human life. Still, Vergil did not interfere.

Two weeks turned to three, and the haze that clouded his son's mind from Vergil's probing grew thick enough to obscure any actual real information of the world around him. That could only mean one thing: Nero was losing his own sense of self and his surroundings. This lost, it was only a matter of time before he sought out the source of the bond in his mind. Perhaps he might even kill more than just a few stray animals in the process.

Three weeks turned to four, and Vergil would deny feeling anxious at all. He could feel the bond between him and his son stretched thin, taut as a bowstring. As the thirty day mark drew near, he retreated to his brother's coffin for some comfort.

Had Dante been awake, he would've shoved Vergil away for the brush of lips so close to his neck, for the way Vergil slotted their legs together and rubbed his cock against a thigh. But Dante was asleep, and it seemed he would never wake up, so Vergil took his liberties.

Vergil was not crass or cruel — he would frot himself to completion against Dante's leg or backside, but he never penetrated his brother's body. It was a line that Vergil could never bring himself to cross.

The coming of dawn's light on the twenty-ninth day since Nero left pulled Vergil into unconsciousness. He could fight it, of course, and force himself to stay awake. But there was no need, when all he could feel on the other end of the bond was a kaleidoscope of colors and sensations that made no real sense. If Nero came to him during the daylight hours, the call of their shared bloodline would wake him.

Funnily enough... Vergil  _did_  wake, at some point in the late afternoon. That bond that had been so strained was now close by, leading Nero to wander the spelled hallways in search of his own father.

His new master.

Quietly, Vergil tugged on the network of spells to send him straight to his wayward son, who had collapsed against a wall. The boy's breathing was labored, and his skin was covered in a sheen of sweat. Ignoring the call of blood had taken so much out of him... and yet he'd lasted nearly a full month without drinking of any vampiric blood. This boy was so strong — stronger than even Vergil would have expected from one of his kin.

"Nero."

Vergil watched as his son's eyes snapped up towards him, pale blue glazed over in a feverish haze and yet watching his every movement with a single-minded intensity.

"F—father...?"

Ahh, so good to hear some of that conditioning in the boy's words. Vergil knelt down next to his son and ran a hand through short, dirty hair. "You're so strong, my Nero. You deserve a reward, don't you think?"

Nero's mind was a jumble of confused emotions and incoherent thoughts, and the sound he made was far more questioning than any word he had the ability to speak at the moment. Vergil offered his wrist, his own undead heartbeat sluggishly pushing blood through the exposed veins there. "Drink, Nero. Use your fangs. Don't mind making a mess, it's quite alright."

The boy just stared at the offered gift, and for a few brief moments Vergil could still feel something warring within that addled head. But then Nero bit painfully into his father's wrist, drinking deep enough to pull at Vergil's entire vascular system. It was an extremely unpleasant sensation, but for family it was worth it.

A few moments passed before Vergil pulled his arm away from Nero's tight grasp. "That's quite enough, my son. Let's get you cleaned up and rested, shall we?"

"I... Kyrie..." Ah yes, that stubborn attachment to the girl. Vergil would have to do something about that, sooner or later.

"We can visit her tomorrow. You can introduce her to me. Wouldn't that be nice, to have your father meet your beloved?" Another struggle within that hazy mind, but then it settled as Nero slumped against Vergil's body.

"Tired..."

Vergil ran fingers through that cropped, filthy hair. "Let's get some rest together, then." He would worry about cleaning up his son later. For now, he carried the boy to Vergil's own coffin and curled up close against Nero's warm body while they both let the sun's light coerce their inhuman biology into unconsciousness.


	6. (Nero)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So what's the deal with roses and dreams?

Nero didn't recognize where he was. A stately old house stood behind him, and a little boy wearing all black to contrast with his white hair hissed at the bright red roses that were taking over the garden. Ugh, Nero had never cared for roses; when anyone could even find them, they were nothing but a tangled, thorn-filled nuisance — one that always made his inhuman nose curl in disgust.

With no one else to turn to, Nero walked up to the little boy. A dhampir, like himself. "Hey kid, you got any idea where we are?"

Unearthly pale blue eyes looked back up at him, judging for a moment. Nero rubbed his nose, staring right back without fear. Dhampir or not, this was just a kid, and Nero was an experienced vampire hunter. Finally, the little boy scoffed and turned back to glare at the roses instead.

"We're sharing a dream. This is my dreamspace home, and I can't get in."

A dream? Nero rolled his eyes, disbelieving. "Oh please, you're just a bratty kid. What's your name, I'll take you to find your parents." Assuming he  _had_  parents to go to. It was an even toss-up, from what Nero'd heard.

"My name is Vergil, and I am your  _father_ , Nero." Something about the kid's voice changed. He was older now, closer to Nero's age, clothed in rich blues, far more saturated than his eyes. "How curious that you're in my dreams. Ah, but I suppose Dante's appeared in mine every now and then, why shouldn't my son show up, now that I've gotten him to sleep in my own coffin?"

Something about that jarred a memory in Nero's mind. A black cat, a maze of a castle, and so much  _blood_ …

But something else hit him, too. "Fuck, I've got to get back to Kyrie!" The last time Nero saw her, she was rushing him out the window.

The world around him and Vergil shifted, showing the inside of his home in Fortuna. Unlike the usual tidiness that Kyrie kept it, maps, bags, and trinkets were scattered everywhere. Kyrie rushed around the room, a pale ghost of herself as she shoved some of Credo's notes into a suitcase. That shadow of Kyrie looked up at Nero, a strained smile so unsuited to her beautiful face.

_"Nero, you have to leave. Please. I'll catch up with you. Head towards Red Grave, alright? You'll be fine, I know you will. Don't worry about Blue Rose or Red Queen, I've got them. Just go."_

That ghost moved towards Nero, pushing him to the window, before the scene melted back to the old mansion with overgrown roses.

"What… What the fuck?"

Vergil hummed, tilting his head as he looked Nero up and down. "It seems at least some part of you remembers what happened before you returned to me. Really, I'm amazed you lasted a full month as a new thrall before returning to me. For as much mental nudging as I gave, even from a distance, I expected you to return within a week,  _maybe_  two at most."

A thrall? That didn't make any sense. "How do I get out of here? I have to get to Kyrie!"

The vampire — dhampir,  _whatever_  he was — moved closer. They were the same height, like this, but those eyes sent shivers down Nero's spine. "You are far too attached to that girl. Give her up. You're already with me, you've recognized me as your father in the waking world, and most importantly,  _you are my thrall now._  Nothing else need matter to you so much as devotion to me."

Those eyes held Nero captive, trapped in his own body. But movement over Vergil's shoulders caught his attention. The roses were creeping towards them both, suffocating Nero's sense of smell. Once more, Vergil hissed and backed away.

"Cease this at once, Nero."

"The fuck are you talking about? I can't stand roses, even if I could control them, why would I make them come  _closer_  to me?"

Thorns and blood-red blossoms caught each of them by the ankle, crawling up both of them, surrounding them and squeezing tight. "Ah, it's—"

 

* * *

 

Nero woke up, gasping for air and clutching at his chest. Something felt wrong, it had been a terrible dream, but what  _was_  it? He couldn't remember…

Beside him, Father groaned. One pale hand reached above them, pushing  _up_  and letting candle light reach Nero's face. Ah, right, Father had taken Nero to his coffin to rest. Nero licked his lips, still tasting Father's blood in the crevices of his fangs.

Cool breath slid across Nero's neck, and soft kisses from chilled lips pressed against his pulse. There was some distant part of Nero that wanted to tense up, but why would he? This was Father, and Father would never hurt him, even if he drank Nero's blood.

"Do you remember your dream, Nero?" Father's voice, soft and smooth and worthy of sending shivers down Nero's spine.

"No… should I?"

Father hummed a moment, then sat up in the large coffin and encouraged Nero to do the same. "It wouldn't be unusual for you to. But that's not important right now. Let's get you cleaned up, shall we?"

Nero  _did_  feel sweaty and kind of gross. He probably smelled pretty rank, too. A quick sniff confirmed that much. Father must have been really tired if he let Nero crawl into his coffin like that. All the same, something nagged at the back of his mind.

"When I'm clean, I want to check on Kyrie. Can I do that, Father?"

Father was far too quiet for far too long before he did answer. "Perhaps. But if you go, I must insist on going with you."

No… that wasn't right. That was dangerous. Not for Father, but for Kyrie. Why, Nero couldn't figure out. Father would never hurt him!

_But he might hurt Kyrie._

Seemingly at that very thought, Father stopped in front of the mirror, reflection wavering in a ripple of shadows. When he turned to look at Nero, everything went fuzzy and soft at the edges. Not visually, but… some way else.

**_I would never do anything to hurt you, or those you love. Calm yourself, Nero. It's perfectly safe to take me to your beloved Kyrie._ **

Father's voice, but inside Nero's head. That had happened a few times before, but the memories of that were just as fuzzy and soft at the edges. There should be more reason to protest, to demand that Father stay far away from Kyrie… but Father was right. Nothing would happen.

Everything was going to be just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yooo, sorry I haven't been updating my fics lately! Lots of mental health stuff has been going on, and now all this COVID-19 business. I had some inspiration, and finally got a short chapter out on this. I do have a Nero & Vergil gen fic that's actually in a planning stage and hopefully will be totally complete before I start posting it, so keep an eye out for that on my gen pseud, lavender_demon!


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